


Taste

by Kyne_7



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Flirting, Drama & Romance, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyne_7/pseuds/Kyne_7
Summary: Astrid Moss has dated...a lot. After all, there's a lot of trial and error when it comes to finding The One; you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince, and Astrid has kissed a very large number of leather-clad, emotionally unavailable frogs. When this habit starts getting her a rather unfavorable reputation, she promises to swear off guys for a while—but that promise gets awfully hard to keep when she meets a certain detective.Rated for eventual explicit content, language, and later violence.(NOTE: Rape mentioned only for the purpose of SVU investigations, no actual rape will be described or detailed!)
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	1. Beware of Flirt

Astrid Moss most certainly had a type. She knew it, and her friends knew it, and by the time she was twenty-seven everyone at the Gold Bar Pub knew it, too. She’d dated every male bartender that came through the door in the last five years for various lengths of time—one of the female bartenders, too—and even a few of the regulars. There wasn’t a terribly complicated reason for it; she hardly went anywhere besides work and home, and work just happened to be the Gold Bar Pub. Dating was tough when working at a bar meant that the last thing you wanted to do in your spare time was...well, go to a bar. And it wasn’t like she prowled for people to date, it always just sort of  _ happened _ .

“That’s because you’re a serial dater.” Astrid’s best friend, Cora, chewed on the straw of her frappuccino. “Of course they’re going to make a joke out of it at the bar, it’s either that or fire you for being unprofessional.”

Astrid groaned aloud, letting her head thunk onto the formica table. “I don’t do it on  _ purpose _ , Cora.”

“I know you don’t, sweetie, and Caleb knows that, too,” said Cora, referring to the bar manager. “You just have terrible taste in partners. Luckily for you, nothing has ever ‘just happened’ with Caleb, or then you’d  _ definitely _ get fired.”

Astrid fidgeted with a sugar packet, pouting. She was still wearing the black v-neck dress she’d worn for the previous night’s shift, the fabric smelling faintly of cigarettes and the gin and tonic someone had spilled on her. Two of her nails, painted matte black, had broken off, and she was sure her short silver-dyed hair had frizzed during her shift. She probably looked a right mess. It was seven in the morning and she should’ve been happily asleep, but these early morning coffee trips were the only time she was ever able to see her friend. Curse Cora and her regular nine-to-five receptionist job.

“So what did they do that’s got you so worked up, frame your picture on the wall or something?”

Astrid’s face flushed. “...Maybe.”

Cora covered her mouth with her hand to hide her grin, but Astrid could tell from the way her cheeks lifted. “That’s…” She cleared her throat. “That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong with me, Cora?” Astrid groaned. “I thought this one was a good one.”

Cora raised a blonde eyebrow. She looked so much more put together than Astrid; she was dressed in a simple blush-colored blouse and black pencil skirt, her hair pulled into a smart bun. No wonder everyone thought Cora was the older one.

“You thought the guy with an industrial bar through his eyebrow and a  _ clear  _ problem with whiskey would be a good one?” Cora sighed. “Astrid, you know I love you, right? And I’m your friend, it’s my job to support you. But it’s also my job, as your friend, to tell you when you’re being a dumbass. At least this time you only went out with him for a few weeks.”

“I just like forceful guys.” Astrid spun the cup in her hands. “With tattoos.”

“And leather jackets, and motorcycles,” Cora said. “Most of whom happen to be struggling musicians or artists who end up having the emotional complexity of a spoon.”

“ _ Cora _ ,” Astrid whined. “I’m a  _ cliche _ .”

“Why don’t you try taking a break from dating for a while?” Cora sipped her drink. “I don’t think I’ve seen you single for more than a few weeks since high school.”

“I can do that.”

“I mean it, Astrid. You can’t just say yes to every guy that asks you out.” Cora sighed. “I also think you need to mature your taste a little, but one step at a time.”

As her friend was speaking, the chime of a bell signaled the front door of the cafe opening. Astrid was facing the door, like always—“I like to be able to see the exit,” she always joked—so she immediately caught sight of the tall, slim,  _ impossibly _ handsome guy that walked in. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing what looked like a full suit underneath a fitted dark brown leather jacket. His eyes were a striking blue.

“Astrid, are you listening?”

Astrid’s eyes found her friend, who was scowling with her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m listening.” She offered a small smile. “Thanks for looking out for me, Cora.”

Cora’s expression softened. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again, like what happened with—”

“I know,” Astrid interrupted quickly. “I know.”

Cora sighed and pushed her chair back. “I have to get to work. Same time tomorrow?”

“Always.” 

Her friend left, and Astrid was back to subtly ogling the guy who’d just walked in. She’d told Cora she’d stay single for a bit, but it didn’t hurt to look. He was a little more clean cut than the guys that usually caught her eye, but he looked like he could still pick her up, maybe throw her around a little—Yikes, maybe she was more fucked up than she realized, fantasizing about a new dude less than twenty-four hours after getting dumped.

But Micah hadn’t been anything special, she reasoned. Hell, she was starting to wonder if she’d even really liked him. He was cute, he’d shown interest, and he’d been a regular at her bar for several months. Apparently those were all the boxes that needed to be ticked. Fuck, Cora was right.

“I’m pathetic,” she muttered. She stood from her chair, moving to the trash can to throw out her cup and stubbornly  _ not _ looking at Mr. Tall and Handsome as she passed. Time to go home and get some rest.

* * *

Astrid jogged slightly, sighing, as she rushed down 8th Street. She’d overslept, already about fifteen minutes late for her shift, Caleb was going to kill her. Her heel caught on a crack in the pavement and she rolled her ankle, stumbling but catching herself with a curse. The bouncer on duty, John, barked out a laugh as he watched the spectacle. Fuck this day, fuck this week, fuck—

She gasped as she threw herself through the doorway of the bar, running headfirst into someone’s broad back. Her ankle throbbed. “Oh,  _ shit _ , I’m sorry—”

“Astrid.”

She peeked around the mystery back with a wince. Caleb stood behind the bar along with one of her coworkers, who was running around making drinks for the beginning of the Thursday night crowd.

“Just the girl we were talking about.” Caleb gestured to the two men in front of the doorway, one of whom the one she’d run into. “These detectives have a few questions for you.”

The two men turned to her, flashing their badges, but Astrid’s brain had frozen with her eyes on the  _ very familiar looking  _ brown leather coat in front of her.

_ The guy from the cafe! _

“—ive Tutuola and I’m Detective Carisi.” Oh  _ God _ , he had a Staten Island accent,  _ forgive me, Cora _ .

“Hi.”  _ Holy shit, my voice squeaked, play it cool.  _ Astrid cleared her throat awkwardly. “Hi.”

The officer next to Detective Dreamy— _ Tu-tu-ola? _ —raised his eyebrows. He seemed like the hardened type, like he’d seen some shit, especially next to his clean-cut companion.

“Miss Moss?” Carisi asked, his blue eyes fixed on her.

“A-Astrid, please, just call me Astrid.” She felt heat in her ears and looked away, back to Caleb.

The bar wasn’t crowded  _ yet _ —it was only 7:15—but a few of the regulars were planted in barstools. She could see, behind Caleb’s head next to the Absolut step display, the framed picture of her. The photo itself was one she’d sent to Micah when she was trying to flirt; she’d aimed the camera down to enhance her cleavage, her smokey eye makeup done just right. It would’ve been a good picture in a different context. Without the “Beware of Flirt” plaque below it.

At least it didn’t say “slut,” though she wanted to believe Caleb wouldn’t have put it up if it had. She set her jaw, discomfort settling in her chest.

“Caleb said you have questions? Why don’t we go to the back room?” She glanced at Caleb again, who nodded, and moved to unlock the employees-only door to the right of the bar.

“Careful, gentlemen.” Her coworker, a girl a little younger than her wearing a purple tank that rode up to reveal a pierced navel, wiped down the bar with a rag and threw the detectives a smirk. She gestured at their attire. “Astrid likes ‘em in leather.”

“Shut up, Claire,” Astrid hissed. “They’re  _ cops _ , I’m not gonna—”

“She’s a real maneater, our Astrid,” chimed one of the regulars, sitting at the bar. He was one of the first she’d dated, a few years older than her. She remembered the song he wrote her, riding on the back of his motorcycle through the city.

“Jake,  _ hush _ .” Her face was on fire. “This is so inappropriate—”

“Is that why you’re here, officers? Arrest her for stealing all those hearts?” Jake was buzzed already, it seemed, and from the titters around the bar it was clear she was going to be the punching bag of the evening.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough everyone,” Caleb said, still smiling good-naturedly. “This way, detectives.”

Astrid stormed ahead, burning with shame. She didn’t need them to remind her of all her past mistakes, she  _ knew  _ already how bad she was with guys. The ones she picked were lazy, or didn’t pay her enough attention, or were just looking for a quick fuck. She liked to think it was gradually getting better—after all, none of them were  _ nearly _ as bad as—

She shook thoughts of  _ that one  _ from her mind. It had taken a lot of work to get past the damage he’d done, why couldn’t everyone see she was  _ trying _ ? She just didn’t like being lonely, that was all—

The back room was mostly a stock room, cases of wine and spirits stacked around, with a small table and chair next to a mini fridge that employees could use for breaks. She settled with her butt against the mini fridge, trying to seem relaxed. The detectives stayed near the door.

“So, uh…” Carisi cleared his throat.

“Those guys give you trouble often?” Tutuola asked.

Astrid swallowed. “They don’t mean any harm. I, uh...I date a lot. They’re just...poking fun.” She shrugged it off, mortified that the cute one witnessed all of that.  _ Well, there goes any shot I might have had anyway. Don’t worry, Cora.  _ “Um, what kind of detectives did you say you were again?”

“We’re with the Special Victims Unit,” said Tutuola. “Were you working two nights ago?”

“Yeah, I work every night but Sunday.” Astrid frowned. Nothing super eventful had happened Tuesday. Or was she being suspected of something? Were they checking her alibi? “What’s this about?”

Carisi was messing around on his phone. “Do you remember serving drinks to this guy?” He turned his screen to her, showing a black and white security cam picture of a dark-haired guy with glasses and a long trench coat.

“Yeah, I do.” Astrid frowned. “He wasn’t dressed for the place. We’re kinda…” She gestured around. “Divey, and he was dressed like he belonged on 5th.”

“Do you remember what time he was here?” Carisi had pulled a notepad from his pocket and was scribbling in it as she talked.

“Not sure what time he came in, you’d have to ask John, the bouncer. He checks everyone’s ID after nine, and the Tuesday crowd is pretty light.” Astrid tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“What time did he leave?”

“Last call,” she said. “I remember because he’d only ordered one thing but he stuck around for hours. Lousy tipper, too. Left about five minutes after we announced last call, so a little after one a.m.?”

Carisi was nodding. Astrid tried not to stare at his hands.

“Did he pay anyone special attention when he was here?” asked Tutuola.

“He was making Claire uncomfortable, so I stepped in.” Astrid fiddled with a loose piece of rubber along the mini fridge door. 

“Uncomfortable how?”

“Leaning really close over the bar towards her. He tried to grab her hand when she put a napkin on the bar for him. She’s still kinda new and doesn’t really know how to handle the touchy ones, so I took his order instead.”

“How did that go over?”

Astrid thought back. “He kept staring at her, so I told her to take a break. One of the regulars was a little drunk and asked him what his problem was, and then he got kinda surly. They didn’t fight or anything, he just kind of...kept glaring.” She cleared her throat again. “Did, uh...Did something happen?”

“He’s a suspect in an ongoing investigation,” said Carisi, short and businesslike.

“You’re...If you’re SVU, does that mean he  _ raped  _ someone on Tuesday?” A shiver ran down her spine.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Tutuola broke the silence.

“Do you have security cameras here we could look at?”

Astrid nodded. “You’re gonna want to ask Caleb about that though. I don’t have access to them.”

Tutuola nodded again. “Thank you for your time.”

That was it? Astrid struggled to hide her disappointment. Carisi produced a business card from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

“If you see him, or if you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” When she reached for the card, her fingers brushed his.  _ Holy fuck, it’s like a romance novel, _ she thought as her fingertips tingled from the contact.  _ Damn you, Cora _ . “My, uh, my cell is on the back, too.”

For some reason, Tutuola was grinning. “Nice meeting you, Astrid.”

Carisi smiled at her, and then the two detectives left the back room. Astrid sagged slightly against the mini fridge, hand over her rapidly beating heart.

“He’s just doing his job,” she muttered. “It’s a work number. To catch a rapist.”

_ Rapist. Right. _

After they left, she warned John about the suspect. Caleb arranged to take Claire home after her shift, since the guy had seemed to pay special attention to her. She could handle this.

Just in case, she put Carisi’s number in her phone, slipping the business card into her pocket.


	2. Sonny

The guy didn’t show up that night, or the night after, and by Sunday morning, Astrid was convinced he’d been caught.

“Why does that seem to bum you out?” Cora picked up her coffee from the counter. “Isn’t it a good thing, the bad guy getting caught?”

“Yeah, no, I mean of course it’s a good thing!” Astrid fought back a yawn. She’d gotten home sometime around four in the morning, taken a quick power nap, and then sprung up for her morning cafe meet up. “Triple shot macchiato please,” she ordered.

Cora winced. “Your blood pressure must be through the roof with all that caffeine.”

Astrid shrugged, leaning against the counter while she waited for her coffee. She hadn’t seen Carisi again, at the cafe or at the bar. She pulled out her phone, staring at the contact info for him, and her thumb hovered over the delete icon. _Should just delete it. I don’t need it._

She paused and then put her phone in her pocket. _I’m pathetic._

The barista placed her coffee on the counter and she accepted it gratefully. Cora was already sitting at their regular table, so Astrid sat opposite her and held back a sigh.

“You have a terrible poker face, Astrid.” Cora gave a sad smile. “Has it gotten that bad at work?”

“It’s...It’s nothing I can’t handle. And I did it to myself, so…”

“Why not find a different job?”

Astrid shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Cora, really. I’m fine.” Then, she yawned again. “Geez, Cora, why do we have to meet up so early on Sundays, can’t you just let me sleep in?”

Cora chuckled, and Astrid sipped her coffee.

“You know, if you moved to the Village you’d see me a lot more.” Cora cupped her chin with her hand. “And we could find you a much nicer apartment.”

“I like my apartment,” Astrid said defensively. “What’s wrong with my apartment? It’s close to work. I like living in Chelsea.”

“You’re not in the _nice_ part of Chelsea, though, Astrid. I watch the news, there have been four robberies on your street in the last few months.”

“My building has security, Cora,” Astrid sighed. “We’re not having this conversation. I like my apartment, and I’ve got a two-year lease.”

“I just think you could be doing better for yourself, Astrid.” Cora pursed her lips. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but remember after graduation when you wanted to get into publishing—”

“You’re right, Cora.” Astrid’s hand tightened on her coffee cup. “I don’t want to hear this.”

Cora looked about to say something and then thought better of it, curling her fingers around her own cup. “Okay, Astrid.”

* * *

Astrid stretched, pulling back on her left arm, as she left the cafe. Cora was going for a run and then lunch with her fiance, and Astrid was going straight home to _sleep_. As she walked around the corner, she caught a familiar face.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered, fishing in her pocket for her phone. _He said to call, right? Call if I saw him again?_

The guy from the bar, the one the detectives were looking for, walked just ahead of her in the same direction of the subway. Her phone rang once, twice. _Come on, come on…_

“Carisi.”

“Carisi!” _Dammit, my voice squeaked again, will I ever stop sounding like a teenager with him?_ “It’s, um, it’s Astrid Moss. From the Gold Bar?”

“Astrid, of course.” God, she loved his voice. _Reel it in, girl_. “Is something wrong?”

“I—” She quickened her pace before she lost the guy. “The guy you’re looking for, I saw him.”

“At the bar? I thought you didn’t work Sundays.”

 _He remembered_. “No, not at the bar. Outside of a cafe I go to, Mugshot on East 29th and Madison.” The guy descended the steps to the 28th street station, and Astrid hesitated at the top. “He’s getting onto the subway at 28th.”

“I can be there in ten minutes,” Carisi said. She could hear the rustling of fabric through the phone as he grabbed his jacket. “Don’t move.”

Astrid bit her lip. “He’s getting on the subway though, won’t we lose him?”

“Astrid, listen to me, do _not_ follow him, do you understand?”

But Astrid had already taken the first step down, and she couldn’t see his coat anymore. “I-I’ll text you updates.”

“ _Astrid_ —”

She hung up on him, her hands shaking, and descended the stairs into the subway. The guy hadn’t noticed her, so she kept her distance and opened a text to Carisi. Her eyes widened when she realized he’d beat her to it, firing a text off to her that said, _Don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be there soon._

The next train pulled up, a number four train, and when the man got on Astrid followed, one car up.

_He’s getting on the 4 train._

She was shocked at how quickly Carisi answered, within a minute or two: 

_I told you not to follow_ _him._

 _Are you always t_ _his stubborn?_

_My friends seem to think so._

Astrid tried not to smile. This was a dangerous situation, _not_ a time to be flirting, definitely not.

_What stop are you on?_

Astrid glanced up, seeing the man in the trenchcoat still sitting in the next car over, as the train stopped and more people got on and off.

_Just past Grand Central._

_He didn’t get off?_

_Still here._

_When he gets off, do_ _not_

 _f_ _ollow him, just_ _text me what_

_stop._

_Do I get a medal if I_ _help_

_catch him?_

_Astrid this is serious._

She knew it was serious, with the way her fingers trembled as she typed her responses. She kept stealing quick glances at the man in the next car to make sure he hadn’t moved.

_Is he dangerous?_

_Do not approach_

_him_

_I don’t think I’m_ _his_

 _t_ _ype._

He didn’t respond to that one for a while, and she worried she’d finally overstepped a boundary. This was a fucking cop, a cop she didn’t know, she was following a suspected _rapist_ , oh fuck what was she doing—

The man stood up before the train stopped, and she hurriedly typed another message.

_He’s getting off._

_77th st_

She stashed her phone back in her pocket, swallowed, and stood. _This is nuts, this is nuts, this is_ _nuts_ _._ She could feel her phone vibrating through the fabric of her jeans, watching as the man vanished up the steps of the subway entrance. When she got above ground, the first thing she noticed was the entrance to Lenox Hill Hospital. People were _flying_ in and out of the doors across the street from the subway, and as she glanced around, Astrid realized she’d lost sight of the man.

“Fuck,” she muttered. Her phone was still going off—she ripped it from her pocket, running her hand through her hair as she answered it. “I’m sorry, Carisi, I lost him, there’s something going on at Lenox Hill—”

“Who the fuck is Carisi?”

Astrid cleared her throat loudly, looking down at her shuffling feet. “Caleb, hi. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Isn’t Carisi the name of one of those detectives from the other day?”

“What? No, nope, I think you’re confused,” Astrid started pacing, walking out from under the shadow of the scaffolding. “His name was Parisi, with a P—”

“You really do move fast, don’t you?” Caleb laughed. “Met the guy on Thursday, boinking him by Sunday.”

“I am _not_ —” Astrid groaned. “Was there a reason you called, Caleb?”

“Claire isn’t picking up, you think you could work her 6:30?”

“Caleb, I’m there every night, all I asked for was Sundays.” Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly. “Isn’t there anyone else to cover?”

“Nikki is out on maternity leave still and Ty called in sick already.”

“Goddammit.”

“C’mon, Astrid, I know we razz you a bit but you’re my most experienced bartender. I’ll give you Wednesday and Thursday off this week.”

“We both know you can’t do that.” A car pulled up next to her on the street; Astrid eyed it warily, stepping away from the curb and heading back toward the subway entrance. “Any idea why Claire isn’t answering? Anyone check on her?” Astrid thought about the guy she’d been following, about the likelihood that he’d raped someone, and her anxiety spiked.

“Why would I check on her?”

“She lives alone, doesn’t she? Someone should check and make sure she’s okay.”

Caleb sighed. “You’re just trying to get out of the extra shift. I know you don’t want to do it, Astrid, but hell, I’ll let you take my tips if you just come in.”

She licked her lips. “Where does she live? I’ll just stop by, and if she’s sick or really can’t come in, I’ll cover.”

Astrid heard Caleb sigh again, and then a short slam and the rustling of papers. “55 East 76th Street.”

“I’m…” Astrid frowned. “I’m two streets away.”

Dimly she heard a car door slam, and then a warm hand was suddenly clamped on her shoulder. “Astrid?”

“ _Holy Mary mother of—_ ” She jumped, whole body tense, and dropped her phone—the screen landed flat on the sidewalk. “Don’t _scare_ me like that, detective!”

Carisi had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She picked up her phone with a wince at the busted screen and gingerly put it to her ear again. “Caleb? Still there?” There was no sound; apparently the call had dropped when the phone had. Then, it sunk in why Carisi was here. “The guy! I’m so sorry, I lost him once he got off the train—”

She gulped down her rambling words. He was sans leather jacket today, instead in a smart, tailored navy suit. Did he have to look so damn _delectable_? He was on the job, for fuck’s sake...

Carisi’s blue eyes were regarding her seriously. “I told you not to follow him.”

“So arrest me, officer.” She lifted her hands to him, wrists turned up. “I thought it would be helpful, he hasn’t come back to the bar. It doesn’t matter, you wasted a trip, and I have to go check on Claire.”

“Claire? Your coworker?”

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Steel trap, aren’t you? That was my boss on the phone, she hasn’t been answering, and her apartment is only a few streets away.”

“Wait, this the coworker that guy was paying special attention to before you stepped in? And you said he got off the train at this stop, with her apartment nearby?”

Realization sunk in slowly. “Oh.” _Oh._ “You don’t think…”

“Why don’t I go with you,” he suggested. “Just in case.”

“N-No, that’s okay, don’t you have to look for the guy?”

“Finn and Rollins are on their way to canvas the area. It’s no trouble, really, and I’d feel better walking you over myself so you don’t go chasing after other potential criminals.”

She flinched and relented, her cheeks burning as she walked side by side with him towards 76th Street.

“Sonny, by the way,” he said at one point, his hands in his pockets.

“What?”

“You can call me Sonny. Instead of just calling me ‘Carisi’ or ‘detective’.” He gave her a smile that made her knees wobbly.

“Alright...Sonny.”


	3. Target

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, longer chapter incoming.  
> Please be kind! I don't know a whole lot about police procedure so I'm just doing my best to keep the story going!

It took every ounce of Astrid’s willpower to stare straight ahead as she walked and not let her gaze wander to look over Sonny’s profile. This wasn’t a date, wasn’t even a casual walk—they were going to Claire’s to check on her because a _suspected rapist_ had gotten off at a stop nearby her house. Astrid lifted her hands to her face and slapped her own cheeks lightly. Focus, girl.

Carisi— _Sonny_ —caught the motion, however, and frowned. “What was that for? You okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” Her voice cracked again. Goddamn. “No, I’m fine, I just haven’t been sleeping a whole lot.”

“Did you work last night?” They were only a few blocks from Claire’s building. She should’ve asked Caleb which apartment.

Astrid nodded. “Got off around 3:30ish?”

“So, what, you napped and then went out for coffee on your day off? Why not sleep in?”

She gave him a wry smile. “I’m a masochist, apparently.”

The crooked smile he gave her in return made her nearly trip. Fuck, she was too exhausted for this man to be this good-looking.

“I meet my best friend for coffee at that cafe almost every day,” she said. “It’s the only time I get to see her. Our schedules don’t really line up.”

“Must be a good friend.”

“Besties since freshman year of college,” Astrid said. “If I gotta get up at seven to see her, then I’ll get up at seven.” She decidedly _didn’t_ mention that a few years of night terrors had done its damage on her sleep schedule as it was—he didn’t need to know. No one knew but Cora.

“Still, though,” said Sonny, peering at her face. His eyes were so _blue_. “You should try to sleep more. You look tired.”

For a moment, she was drawn to his eyes. He looked genuinely concerned for her, essentially a stranger, and that was oddly touching. A real insight into his character. He seemed like a really sweet guy.

_“Why don’t you take a break from dating for a while?”_

That’s right. She’d promised Cora. She was falling back into her same patterns already, swooning over a guy she barely knew just because he smiled at her the right way. What was _wrong_ with her?

_Besides, if he truly is just a sweet guy, I’m no good for him anyway._

“You should know better than to say that to a girl,” she said dryly, realizing she hadn’t responded.

“That’s not what I meant—”

She laughed despite herself. “Relax, Sonny. I’m just teasing. I know I look like shit.”

“Y-You don’t! I only meant—”

“This is her building.” She cut that thread as quickly as she could, jogging up the steps of a tall apartment building. She glanced at the door phone, scrolling down the list of names and their accompanying buttons. Claire’s name was on the apartment labeled 2A. Astrid pressed the button, heard a short buzz, and then nothing.

She waited. Nothing. No response, no buzz in.

“Try it again,” said Sonny, his tone serious.

Astrid tried again, and when she heard nothing, she reached forward and experimentally tugged on the door to the building. The door, which should have been electronically locked until they were buzzed in by a resident, opened with no fuss.

She spun to look at Sonny, her eyebrows raised, and Sonny was frowning.

“That’s not a good sign,” he said. “Wonder how long that’s been broken.”

“She didn’t answer the intercom, she didn’t answer her phone.” Astrid’s throat was dry. “What if she’s—”

“Let me go first,” he said, stepping in front of her. “You stay behind me.”

They got up to the second floor. Apartment 2A was first on the right, and Astrid could see immediately something was wrong—the door was cracked open. Sonny reached to his hip and drew his gun, and Astrid’s blood ran cold. She didn’t want to speak, in case that gave them away, and instead raised her hand to his back and clutched the fabric of his suit jacket. He turned to her, finger to his lips, and mouthed one word: “Stay.”

But how could she stay out here? Just wait for him to...to...who even _knew_?

_He’s a cop, this is his job._

So, reluctantly, she let go of his jacket. He nudged the door open further with his toe and stepped into the apartment. Astrid waited—well, she tried to, she really did. She could hear crying from inside the apartment, the low timbre of Sonny’s voice, and then she bolted in.

“Claire?” she called. 

The apartment was a mess. A lamp in the living room, just inside the doorway, had been knocked over and broken. Couch cushions were pulled to the floor. There was broken glass from a mirror that hung in the entryway. The crying was coming from the bedroom—Astrid half-ran through the door to find Sonny kneeling next to Claire while she sobbed. Her lip was split, her forehead cut and bleeding, and Sonny had covered her with his suit jacket—meaning she was probably naked.

“Claire,” Astrid breathed. 

“A-Astrid?” Claire’s eyes were big, red and puffy with tears. Her makeup was smudged.

Sonny was talking into his phone, calling an ambulance for her. Astrid took his place kneeling next to her—Sonny glared at her briefly for disobeying him, and then kept talking.

Claire grabbed at Astrid’s arms in desperation. “Astrid,” she sobbed, her face full of fear. “He took m-my phone and my _keys_ —he has my apartment key, Astrid—”

“Shh,” Astrid soothed. Her heart panged painfully in her chest. “It’s okay, calm down. We’ll get the locks changed. Don’t—Don’t think about that right now, okay? Where did he go?”

“Out the window,” Claire breathed. Her fingers dug into Astrid’s arms. “He heard you try to buzz in and he went out the window, into the alley—”

There was a metallic clang and suddenly Claire was in hysterics again.

“He’s still out there, you can’t leave me, he’s gonna come back—”

Astrid stood, her heart pounding, and went over to the window. It was wide open, the fire escape platform immediately outside, and when Astrid got closer she could see the clang had been the ladder getting dropped. A man was running off through the alley. Had he...had he been hiding out on the fire escape?

“Sonny!” she yelled, but her legs were already swung over the windowsill.

_What am I doing?_

She was on the ladder, her palms sweaty.

_He’s going to get away again._

She leapt down from the ladder, running after him through the alley. Her legs tingled with adrenaline—she could see his coat just ahead, about to reach the street.

“Get back here!” she shouted at him, and to her infinite surprise, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Astrid, stop!” Sonny’s voice reached her, angry and booming.

“He’s getting away!”

“Astrid!”

Then the man was on the street, and Astrid was running out of steam. She slowed, lungs burning, as he disappeared from sight. Sonny came up behind her, panting slightly from chasing after her, and then grabbed her by the shoulders.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded. "Do you have any idea how _stupid_ that was?"

“He was still outside, I thought I could—”

“What? Thought you could catch him? You’re a _civilian_ , let me do my damn job!”

He was shaking her slightly as he yelled, his face scrunched up in anger. Astrid stared at him as the adrenaline wore off, her muscles jelly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think—”

“Stop chasing after trouble,” he snapped. “Just go to the building lobby and _stay there_ while we wait for the ambulance.”

Numbly, Astrid did as he instructed. Why had she chased? It _was_ stupid. She didn’t know if the man was armed, or dangerous—he was clearly violent, he’d beat the hell out of Claire—

She must have zoned out; the ambulance was here now, paramedics bringing Claire down on a stretcher.

“Astrid!” Claire reached for her again. Astrid grasped numbly at her hand, and then let go, but Claire just grabbed it tighter.

“You need to go to the hospital, Claire,” she said, as softly as she could.

“Come with me, p-please.”

Astrid didn’t understand Claire’s pleading eyes. They weren’t even friends. Surely there was someone else Claire could call.

“Carisi!” A blonde woman entered the lobby, followed by Detective Tutuola, and made a beeline for Sonny. Astrid hadn’t realized he was behind her.

The paramedic gave Astrid an exasperated look. “We need to get her in the ambulance.”

Astrid nodded, but Claire was still shaking and holding onto her hand with white knuckles. She could hear the blonde woman talking with Sonny, asking what had happened.

“Claire,” said Astrid, clearing her throat. She made eye contact with Tutuola. “This is Detective Tutuola, do you remember him from the bar? He came on Thursday with Detective Carisi?”

Claire’s frightened eyes glanced at Tutuola and away. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you let the paramedics take you to the hospital?” Tutuola said, but Claire shook her head wildly.

“I want Astrid to go with me,” she said.

“Claire—”

The blonde woman suddenly stepped forward. “Why don’t I ride with you, sweetie? My name is Detective Rollins, but you can call me Amanda, okay?”

Claire flickered between Astrid and the blonde, Rollins, who seemed to notice and added, “Astrid can meet us at the hospital, but we really need to go get you checked out.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Claire let go of Astrid’s hand. “A-Alright.”

Astrid stepped back and Rollins took her place, getting into the ambulance alongside the stretcher. Once the doors were closed, Tutuola turned to Sonny and Astrid with raised eyebrows.

“So, you wanna explain?” he said to Sonny. “Liv isn’t gonna be happy about this.”

“He means me,” Astrid mumbled, folding her arms over her chest. Her heart was still thudding uncomfortably in her ribcage.

“She called,” said Sonny. “Said she couldn’t get a hold of Claire and that she’d seen our guy in the area. I met her here.”

Astrid noticed his fudged timeline and said nothing, avoiding eye contact with the other detective.

“Uh huh,” said Tutuola. “And she had to come along because…?”

“I insisted,” she said, interrupting whatever Sonny was about to say. “It’s not his fault. I’d have come whether he let me or not.”

Tutuola didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything else. “Liv’s gonna want to talk to her. What about the suspect?”

“He ran off.”

Tutuola’s phone rang and he stepped aside to answer it, and Sonny sighed.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Astrid licked her dry lips. “I should call Caleb and get ready for work.”

“What?”

“He’d asked me to pick up her shift.” She shuffled on her feet, avoiding those blue eyes. “And it’s not like she’s going to be able to work the next few days.”

“She asked you to go with her—”

“We’re not friends, she was just scared.” Astrid squeezed her own biceps, fingers digging in. “Besides, I’ll be more help covering her shift than holding her hand.” She swallowed, steeled herself, and then met his gaze. “I’m sorry I got in your way, Detective.”

He noticed the pointed use of his title and scowled. “Is this because I yelled at you? You’re gonna pout like a child—”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Then go to the hospital. What time was the shift?”

Astrid bit the inside of her cheek. She could lie, say it was soon— “Six-thirty.”

“I’ll drive you.”

* * *

She could hear snippets of the argument from the other room. Astrid sat in the hospital room, holding Claire’s hand while a female nurse ran the rape kit. Claire was crying again, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the voices from the hall.

“I think she needs a protective detail—”

“Why would he target her? Is there something you’re leaving out, Carisi?”

“Look, just trust me. She was working the night he fixated on Claire and if he was able to find out where Claire lived, Astrid isn’t safe either, she could be his next target—”

Next target, she thought numbly. What he was leaving out was that she’d chased him. He’d seen her. He’d turned around and gotten a good look at her face—

“Astrid,” said Claire tearfully.

Astrid squeezed her hand on impulse. “I’m here.”

“M-My shift tonight—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said instantly. “I’ll work it. I’ll tell Caleb you weren’t feeling well.”

The girl looked so small in the hospital bed, and Astrid felt suddenly like their five year age difference was much larger. Then the nurse was done, and Detective Rollins came into the room.

“Hey, Claire.” Rollins glanced at Astrid. “Up to answering a few questions.”

Claire looked mortified, and Astrid wondered if it would be easier to give them a little privacy.

“Why don’t I go get a soda?” Astrid said, standing. Claire seemed concerned, for a moment, and then Astrid reassured her. “I’m just gonna be out in the hall, okay?”

Astrid left the room with a sigh. Carisi caught sight of her at the same time as the woman who stood next to him, who introduced herself as Lieutenant Benson.

“Carisi says that the man who attacked Claire saw you at the scene as he fled.”

“That’s right.” Astrid purposely avoided Carisi’s eyes. “It was my fault I was there at all, ma’am. Detective Carisi told me to stay put and I didn’t listen.”

Benson gave her a level stare, almost like the woman could read her easily. _Yeah, definitely don’t look at Sonny, I do not need this woman knowing I’ve got an ill-advised crush on one of her detectives. Not to mention I’ve probably already massively screwed it up._

“He’s concerned for your safety,” Benson said. “We think you may be at risk. We can offer you an officer for protective detail—”

Astrid grit her teeth and forced a smile. “Thank you, but I’ll be alright.”

“Astrid.” Carisi stepped in. “This guy clearly stalked your coworker, we don’t know what he’s capable of—”

“I don’t need to waste some cop’s time while I go to work all night. I’ll be fine at Gold Bar.”

“At least stay with a friend until we catch the guy—”

“We don’t even know if he’s targeting me for sure.”

Carisi looked ready to continue the argument, but Benson put her hand on his arm. “We can’t force her to take the detail, Carisi.”

Astrid made the mistake of looking at Carisi’s eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest—he looked both angry and so, so worried. _Jesus, Sonny,_ she thought. _Not fair. I’ve only known you for a few days._

Rollins came out, apparently done asking Claire questions.

“She’s asking for you,” Rollins told Astrid.

_Saved by the bell._

“Go on,” said Benson. “But I do have a few more questions for you before you leave.”

Astrid nodded and went back into Claire’s room, feeling Carisi’s stare as the door closed behind her.

* * *

As it turned out, the girl had moved all by herself from Idaho—she had no local family, no boyfriend in the city, and when Astrid asked if she had any friends, Claire answered, “None that you’d call about this kind of thing.”

She asked to stay with Astrid—her apartment was still a crime scene, plus there was the matter of the keys. Astrid almost agreed...until she thought about Carisi’s worry the man would target _her_ next. Not wanting to scare Claire, she made up a lie about her apartment being too small and called in a favor with Cora.

“What did you get yourself roped into this time?”

“It wasn’t on _purpose,_ Cora,” she hissed into her phone.

“Are you sure? You’ve always gone diving headfirst into trouble for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I have _not._ ”

“What do you call chasing a peeping tom halfway across campus?”

“That’s different—”

“Or confronting that guy that was tagging the side of your apartment building six months ago?”

“I regret telling you that story—”

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can be reckless,” said Cora. “And I try not to hover because I know that just makes you shut down, but I worry for you.”

“I can take care of myself, Cora, you know that.”

“Yes, I know all about your judo lessons and your kick-boxing and the gun you keep in your nightstand—and you think that’s supposed to make me worry _less?_ ”

Astrid paced in the waiting room, feeling eyes on her. She glanced up to see Carisi staring at her from the hall. She lifted her hand to her mouth and bit down on her thumbnail, turning away. “I”ll be fine, Cora, I promise. Now can the girl stay with you for a few days or not?”

Cora sighed. “Yes,” she said. “Let me just see if I can take a sick day or two to stay with her.”

“Thanks, Cora. I owe you one.”

“Pay me back by staying safe,” her friend said back, tone teasingly cranky.

Astrid hung up the phone with another sigh, feeling a headache prodding behind her eyes. She had given her statement to Benson, who was still impossible to read, and she’d been actively avoiding Carisi. She checked the time on her phone—she would need to leave soon. _I’ll need a new phone too,_ she thought, looking forlornly at her cracked screen.

“Did you tell Claire you were leaving?”

Astrid jumped, startled. “Stop doing that!” She massaged her temples. “We need to get you a bell or something.”

Carisi smirked, his hands in his pockets. “You saw me over there, how did I still manage to surprise you?”

Astrid slipped her phone in her pocket and ignored that question. “Yes, Claire knows I’m taking her shift. A friend of mine is coming to pick her up when she gets discharged.”

“The friend you have coffee with?”

Astrid nodded. “I trust her. Claire will be fine.”

Carisi pulled his hands from his pockets, one reaching up to rub awkwardly at his chin. The action would normally have drawn her eyes straight to his face—she picked a spot on his tie and stared at it.

“We should get going soon then, huh?” he said, and in her surprise she made the mistake of looking up. “Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business?” she asked.

“I’m driving you to work,” he said matter of factly. “I’m also going to stay with you until we catch the man who raped Claire.”

“I—” She bristled immediately. _That is the last thing I need right now!_ “I turned down the protective detail.”

“Yes, you did.”

“So I don’t need you following me around.”

“I volunteered,” said Carisi evenly. “My lieutenant already knows about it.”

“I’m serious, I don’t—I absolutely do _not_ —”

“Don’t be so childish, Astrid,” he said, suddenly firm. “You put yourself in harm’s way and now you’re going to deny protection, what, because I yelled at you?”

Her face flushed. “That’s not—” Over his shoulder, she caught sight of a familiar face. “Cora?”

Her friend barreled into her, ignoring the detective, and Astrid sputtered out, “You’re early.”

“I was on my way home when you called, I came straight here. Thought Claire might be more comfortable if I spent some time with her before she was discharged.”

Astrid hugged her. “You’re so thoughtful, Cora, I owe you big time for this.”

“It’s awful, what happened to her.” Cora took notice of Carisi. “Is this the detective on her case?” She eyed the badge clipped at his waist.

“Cora, Detective Carisi,” Astrid introduced, gesturing between them.”

“Sonny,” Carisi offered, holding out his hand for Cora to shake. For some reason, Astrid’s chest tightened. “Can I ask you something about Astrid?”

“No,” Astrid snapped, stepping between them.

“Is she always this stubborn?” Carisi asked, ignoring her.

“Always,” said Cora without hesitation. “What is it she’s being stubborn about?”

“They want to waste time and manpower to give me a protective detail,” Astrid said with a scowl.

“I told you, I volunteered. Only person’s time that will be wasted is mine.”

Cora had a strange look on her face. She looked pristine and professional as ever. Astrid glanced down at her own wrinkled clothes. She’d need to change before she went to the bar.

“I don’t need protection,” she said to Cora. “And I need to get going, I have to stop at my apartment before work.”

“Astrid,” said Cora in a low voice. “Maybe, this time, you can accept the help?”

“Cora, I told you—” But Cora had a serious, worried expression, the kind of face she always made when Astrid pushed herself too far or when something came up from when they first met. She’d been weak back then, relying on Cora too much. She’d been broken. And poor Cora had picked up the pieces, been there for her even when she insisted she’d never be weak again.

“Alright,” Astrid said. _Just stop making that face._ “Fine. He can waste his time if he wants.” She squeezed her friend’s shoulders. “I’ll be okay, Cora.”

Cora gave a short nod, and Astrid jerked her chin at Carisi.

“Well? Coming or not?”


	4. Just Another Night

The car ride was awkward to say the least. They hadn’t spoken since she’d given her address, and now she simply stared out the window. They arrived at her building in complete silence.

“I’ll change and be right out,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“That’s not how this works,” Carisi said, parking. “I go where you go.”

She clenched her jaw but said nothing, putting in her key for the building.

“You changed your mind when your friend came,” he said. He followed her to the elevator.

“It seemed easier than doubling down,” she said, shrugging. She pressed five. “I...don’t like needing help. But I also don’t like making Cora worry. She’s dealt with a lot since we’ve been friends.” Shaking off her vulnerable feeling, she added, “Not like you were gonna take no for an answer either.” The elevator dinged as they reached her floor. “Do you plan to follow me to work?”

He glanced at her, half a smile tugging at his lips, and her heart skipped. “Do you need me to define protective detail to you?”

“It’s just…” She thought of the plaque up at work as she put the key in her door. “Are we going to tell everyone that you’re my bodyguard?”

His expression shifted—she knew he’d seen the plaque too and flinched. “Would it be better for you if we said that, or if we hid it?”

“They’ll probably have something to say either way, honestly.”

Her apartment was a little cluttered—lived-in, she liked to call it. There was laundry on the couch she’d need to put away, dirty dishes in the sink—but the couch was comfortable and the fridge was stocked and her TV was huge. All the essentials.

“Wait here,” said Carisi, as he walked through the apartment.

When he deemed it clear, he waited outside her bedroom while she changed.

“If we say you’re protecting me,” she called through the door, “at best they’ll tease and at worst it’ll worry everyone.”

“They saw me there last week asking questions, won’t your boss remember I’m a detective?”

“We could just say nothing.” Astrid adjusted the black body-con dress. It was one of her default work outfits, left over from college. Customers tipped better on weekends, best if she wore a dress. And her favorite tip-collector, a deep emerald off-the-shoulder number, was dirty from the night before. She sighed, applying her mascara.

“They’re going to assume anyway,” she added, opening the door and slipping on her black combat boots; she’d never been partial to heels. “They think I’m easy.”

_Might as well state facts. He’ll find out once we get there anyway._

She walked past him, feeling his gaze on her. “Can’t blame them, I guess. I don’t stay single long. It’s my own fault I have this reputation.”

Carisi’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “That’s not fair,” he said. “They shouldn’t shame you for your dating habits. You’re just looking for love, same as anyone.”

“Looking for love, huh?” His hand on her skin burned. She tried to smile at him as his touch fell away. “In this dress?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but his eyes dropped to her dress anyway and she swallowed.

“Come on, I’ll be late if we don’t get going.”

* * *

 _I guess it’s karma,_ Astrid thought as Carisi drove up to the bar. _I finally like a nice guy and I’ve got a reputation as a hussy. Serves me right, I guess. I did tell Cora I’d swear off dating. Plus, what shot would I have had anyway? He thinks I’m childish._ Her chest tightened again when she thought about the look he’d given Cora when he shook her hand, how easily he’d offered her to call him Sonny. _Glad she’s engaged, I bet she’s more his type._

“Y’know, this quiet thing,” said Carisi. “It’s freaking me out a bit.”

“You don’t know me very well,” she said, pulling down the hem of her dress over her thighs. “Maybe this is just me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He glanced at her as he parked. “I’m serious, how long are you going to give me the cold shoulder?”

“How long are you going to be around?” she quipped back. This was better. Some distance between them, a reminder that she wasn’t supposed to be crushing on him. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen and got you in trouble with your boss. You’ve got a job to do, I get that, but stop acting like we’re friends.” _It’s making everything so much harder._ She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Why are you so combative?”

She got out of the car without answering. This was better, she thought again. She was his case, his job. Always been his job.

* * *

“I really appreciate this,” said Caleb, mixing a cosmopolitan. 

“You’ve said that three times, Caleb.” Astrid smiled and shook her head, popping the top off two domestics and trading them for a man’s credit card. “It’s fine, just don’t forget the extra tips you owe me.”

“I’m grateful,” Caleb began again, “but when are you going to explain why the detective is here again?”

“It’s a free country, he can go to whatever bar he pleases.” Astrid let her eyes slide to where he sat at the end of the bar. “Maybe he just wanted a drink.”

“He’s been nursing the same whiskey for two hours.”

Astrid caught the eye of the table by the door—three regulars, one waving two fingers in the air. “Mick wants two more.”

“Tell him we’re out of Maker’s Mark.”

Astrid reached to the step display to grab the Wild Turkey instead, trying not to look at the framed photo of herself. She lifted the Wild Turkey into the air, a wordless question to Mick, who sighed noticeably but nodded anyway. She set to work pouring his drink.

“Well?” Caleb asked.

“Well what?”

“You and I both know he’s not here for the drink and he’s not here for the ambiance. John saw him drop you off.”

“It’s nothing, okay? Drop it.”

“You were waiting for him to call earlier today, too.”

Astrid set down the bottle with a little too much force, her agitation plain on her face. “I know you won’t believe me when I say there’s nothing going on. But if you could at least keep the mocking to a minimum, that would be great. I’m the one with the slutty reputation, he doesn’t need any extra shit. His job is hard enough.”

Caleb watched her hands flexing on the neck of the bottle as she struggled to calm down. “Is that what you think we consider you?”

“Why else would you put up that fucking picture?”

Astrid grabbed Mick’s two drinks and smoothed her expression before bringing them to Mick’s table.

“How’s it going, boys?” She smiled at them. 

Mick was thirty, divorced but cute, a manager at an Apple store who liked to play piano—his two pals, Sal and Ryan, worked at a deli and a limo service respectively. Sal was married, and Ryan—

“Hey,” he said, swirling his beer, his green eyes inscrutable. The bourbons were for Sal and Mick. “How have you been, Moss?”

Astrid gave him a gentle grin. “I’m good, Ryan. Been a while since you came here.”

“Yeah.” He was an old friend of Mick’s; they’d gone to high school together, if she was remembering right. She remembered how surprised she was to find out his age. “I heard Micah broke up with you.”

She’d dated Ryan right before Micah, very briefly—only one date, actually. He was nice enough, with a kind of boyish fascination with her, and they’d bonded over his tattoo of a sword on his forearm. They’d gone to dinner, realized they had very little to talk about, and he’d never called her again.

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “No big deal, though. I’m fine.” _So is he,_ she thought.

“That’s our girl,” said Mick, slipping his arm around Astrid’s waist. “She heals so fast!”

Sal laughed. “I heard she had a new beau two weeks after you guys broke up, Mick.”

“You know, those might have been the best eight months of my life,” said Mick seriously.

Astrid rolled her eyes and extravated herself from his arm. “You broke up with me and got married six months later. What about your wife?”

“You see how well that ended for me. Besides, there’s no one like you, darlin’.” Mick slipped a fifty into her palm. “One more round and keep the rest, yeah?”

“Of course, boys.” She tucked the money down the front of her dress. “It’s nice to see you again, Ryan.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before moving on from their table. 

For all her reputation, she had always been the one dumped. Sometimes a few weeks, like Micah, sometimes one date like Ryan—a few of them had even lasted almost a year, like Mick—but eventually they got tired of her for some reason or another and gave up. Cora used to say it was because she never let herself be truly open, and they could tell. In the last year or so, the relationships lasting less than a month each, Cora had been less analytical.

“You weren’t really into them anyway,” Cora would say. “I don’t know why you said yes in the first place.”

 _Better than being lonely,_ she thought. She rang Mick for the two rounds of drinks, slipping her remaining tip back into her dress.

“You know,” said Caleb in a low voice when she moved back behind the bar, “if you wanted me to believe there’s nothing going on between you and the cop, you might want to tell him to work on his poker face.”

He gestured at Carisi, who sat with tense shoulders and a sour expression.

Astrid sighed; she walked over to Carisi, clearing bottles and glassware off the bar.

“Stop making that face,” she grumbled at him. “Caleb thinks you’re jealous, and I just got through trying to tell him to give it a rest—”

“You let all your patrons get that handsy?” Carisi asked.

“What, Mick?” she said, shaking her head. “That was hardly handsy, you should be here on Saturdays. You think John’s here to look pretty? Besides, that’s just Mick. He’s been a regular for years.” She wiped down the bartop. “Plus it’s good for tips.”

“Seemed like more than a regular.”

“He’s my ex.” Astrid took a look around the bar. _Might as well get it all out now._ “See that guy in the booth with the red shirt? Ex. That one next to him with the lip ring? Ex. Also dated one of the other bartenders who still works here, Ty, and that entire table of previous bartenders.”

“That whole table used to work here?”

“Every one of them. Dated them all.”

“All of them?” Carisi swept his eyes over the inhabitants of the table. “One of them’s…”

“A girl, yeah.” Astrid caught Lucy’s gaze and waved. Lucy winked and lifted her empty martini glass, shaking it. Astrid nodded and started mixing her another. “She lasted about two months before she dumped me.”

Lucy walked over to the bar to wait for the drink—she’d grown out her hair and dyed it red, a new tattoo peeking out beneath her shirt across her collarbone. When she gave Lucy the new martini, Lucy told her to add it to her tab and then tucked a ten dollar bill into Astrid’s cleavage. When the woman walked away, Astrid turned back to Carisi and said, “Now do you see why Caleb has that picture up?”

“You’re certainly popular.” She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Were all of your breakups this friendly?”

Her spine tensed so hard she thought she pulled a muscle. “Not all of them.” Even in the dim bar lighting, he looked handsome. It wasn’t fair. His hair was just slightly mussed from the day, his shirt a little wrinkled. He’d draped his suit jacket across the back of his chair. She wondered at what point in the night he’d loosen his tie.

“What kind of reaction is that?” she asked. “I just told you I’ve dated a third of the people in this room.”

“I told you before, didn’t I? You’re looking for the right one. Clearly you’re not a terrible person, or they wouldn’t all be so cordial with you.” Carisi took a small sip of his whiskey, locking eyes with her. “They don’t hold anything against you, so why are you so hard on yourself?”

Astrid stared at him, her heart loud in her chest. What’s with this guy? Is he for real?

“I…” She locked onto a new guy and girl who had sat at the bar a few seats down. “I have customers.”

Carisi waved her off. “I’ll be here.”

“All night?”

“That’s the idea,” he said, smiling at her over his glass.

Astrid fought the blush that rose to her cheeks. Just doing his job, she reminded herself. She felt his eyes on her as she worked and by the last half hour before closing time, Caleb had only gotten more suspicious.

“Is he really going to hang around until you’re off?” Caleb was helping her clean tables as the place cleared out. “Even for you, Astrid, this is weird. Is everything alright?”

Astrid sighed, rubbing her temples. “He’s here to protect me.”

“Protect you? From what?”

“That guy they were asking about the other day, the police think he might attack me.” Astrid shrugged. “I think they’re just being overly cautious, it’s nothing. That’s why I didn’t bring it up. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Astrid, I’ve known you for five years.” Caleb sighed, avoiding her eyes. “I’ve seen you lay a guy out for touching your ass on shift. I’m not worried.”

“Thanks. You’re the only one, then.” She tried to muster up another smile.

“I’m more worried about him,” said Caleb, jabbing his thumb in Carisi’s direction. “Hope he knows what he’s gotten into. I’ve yet to meet a man immune to the Moss charm.”

It took all her self-control not to roll her eyes again. “Very funny, Caleb. I assure you there are plenty.” She swept her bangs behind her ear. “Claire will be out for a few more days at least. You’ll need someone to cover her Wednesday shift.” She glanced up. “Especially since I seem to remember someone giving me the day off.”

Caleb laughed at her. “Alright, I’ll call Ty in. I will need you Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Why don’t you head out for the night? John and I can handle closing.”

“You sure?” Even as she asked, her legs felt leaden.

Caleb reached into his pocket and retrieved a small fold of cash tips. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	5. Protect (My Heart)

Briefly, Astrid fell asleep in Carisi’s car. When he parked at her apartment building, she found herself suddenly wide awake. So what now?

“Are you…” She cleared her throat as she got out. “Are you staying the night?”

He nodded. “I’ll do the initial sweep of your apartment for security and then come back down to the car,” he said. “That’s usually the protocol when it’s a uniformed detail or a patrol car.”

“But don’t those usually go in shifts?”

Carisi shrugged.

“And you don’t have anyone else coming to relieve you, so you’re going to spend the whole night awake...in the car?”

“Don’t worry.” He gave her his crooked smile and her breath caught. “It’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she found herself saying, and color rose to her cheeks. “Come up to my place. My couch pulls out into a bed. That’s gotta be better than a car.”

* * *

_This is so awkward._

She stripped off her dress, listening to the shower water hit the tiles in her bathroom. Carisi was in the living room, getting the pull-out ready—she’d given him some bedding from the hall closet before escaping to the bathroom to bathe. Cora had sent her a text telling her not to worry about coffee the next morning, that she’d be off work and taking care of Claire, but Astrid knew it was for her benefit. She’d be able to sleep in, but it also meant a full day before work in her apartment, just her and Carisi.

She stepped under the spray, washing the makeup from her face, dumping a generous amount of purple toning shampoo into her hair. Her stomach growled as she took her time to lather and rinse, and she found herself wondering if he’d eaten anything that day. They’d been together the whole time and she hadn’t even seen him snack on something. She was used to hardly eating anything, but there was no way he wasn’t hungry, right?

“Maybe I’ll make him something,” she said as the water ran clear. “A peace offering.”

She reached for the body wash and it slipped from her hand, dropping to the floor of the shower with a loud thud. She sighed, picking it up and pouring some into her hand, and nearly jumped out of her skin when something banged on her bathroom door.

“Astrid?”

“Sonny,” she said, his name slipping automatically. “You scared me, what is it?”

“I heard a noise, you alright?”

She exhaled again, then inhaled, breathing in the mint and rosemary of her body wash. This shit was supposed to be calming, according to the bottle. _Wonder if I can get my money back,_ she thought wryly as her heart continued to thump.

“I’m fine, just dropped a bottle. I’ll be out in a minute.”

 _It’s gonna be hard getting used to this._ She rinsed herself and turned off the water, grabbing her towel from the nearby rack. She had grabbed the first clothes she saw in the drawer, a loose tank and running shorts. She dressed and went out into the kitchen. Carisi was sitting on the pull-out, just in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the first button undone and his suit pants. His jacket, vest and tie were hanging on one of her kitchen chairs by the island. She tried not to stare.

“Do you need to use the shower?” she asked. She felt strangely...vulnerable.

“I usually shower in the mornings,” he said, adjusting the watch on his left wrist.

Her eyes caught the clock. Nearly three. “I know it’s late, but this is usually when I eat dinner.” She reached up, brushing her wet hair behind her ear. “Are you hungry?”

“Are you being nice to me now?” A teasing smile quirked at his lips, and she had to force herself to look away.

“Olive branch,” she grumbled. “But if you’d prefer, I’ll just make food for one and eat it in front of you.”

To her great surprise and delight, he laughed. “What are you making?”

She opened her fridge just to double check her food stock, pulling out eggs, heavy cream and bacon. _I think I’ve got some dry spaghetti in the cupboard._ “How about carbonara?”

“Carbonara? From scratch?” His voice suddenly sounded a lot closer, and she turned to see he’d stood up from the pull-out and walked behind her. “That’s awfully brave of you, serving that to an Italian.”

“Even an Italian won’t be able to deny Grandma Moss’s recipe,” she said, matching his teasing tone.

“Want any help?” He was already moving to the sink to wash his hands.

“A cop who can cook?” she asked, smiling. She laid out the ingredients on the island.

“ _It_ _alian,_ ” he emphasized.

“Alright, _Detective Italian,_ how about you start rendering the bacon?”

* * *

It was strangely comfortable, she realized, cooking alongside him. His movements were practiced, and their banter was free and easy. By the time the food was ready, she knew all about his sisters and his time in the academy, and over a full plate of pasta she told him about her parents and her dream of being a writer.

“Seems far off now,” she said. “But in college I used to think I had a shot. Turns out I’m a better bartender than novelist.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he insisted. “I’m sure that’s not true. Do you have any works finished? I’d love to read something.”

“You didn’t even ask what genre I write,” she said, leaning forward, twirling pasta around her fork. “It could be saucy romance novels for all you know.”

“Oh, well then I definitely have to read one,” he teased back. “The saucier the better.”

She laughed. “I think I’ve got one that’d suit your taste. Careful not to read it at work, detective.” She waggled her eyebrows, loving the blinding smile he gave her back. “So, was this a good apology?”

“This was an apology?”

She rolled her eyes. _Seems it was futile trying to put distance between us._ Then Caleb’s words echoed in her head: _I’ve yet to meet a man immune to the Moss charm._ She sobered a little. She was getting too comfortable. He was a cop, protecting her. He wasn’t here to play house.

“Hey,” said Carisi softly. “What’s wrong?”

Astrid set her fork down with a dry laugh. “Shit, am I that easy to read?”

“A little.” He offered her another smile and her hands clenched on her lap. “So, what is it?”

She stood up from the table. “It’s nothing.” She gathered the plates, bringing them to the sink. “So, do you always get this domestic with your protective details?”

“Usually, I’m in the car outside,” he reminded her.

“How are you supposed to protect me from all the way out there?”

“I thought you didn’t want protection?”

“I don’t,” she said, running the water to wash the dishes. “But if you’re going to do it anyway, shouldn’t you at least do it well?”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“You know it, babe.” She dropped the plate she was rinsing; it clattered against the other dishes loudly. “Fuck, sorry, that slipped.” Her face burned as she stared steadfastly at the sink. “It’s late, sorry I kept you up so long.”

Carisi didn’t say anything in response and she chanced a look over her shoulder at him. She must have been seeing things; she could’ve sworn she saw the faintest dusting of a blush across his cheeks. _That’s not even fucking fair._

Carisi caught her looking and cleared his throat. “Do you, uh, need help with the dishes?”

Her hands trembled slightly when she turned the water off. “No, I’ll finish up tomorrow. You should get some sleep. There’s extra blankets in the hall, if you need it.” Her eyes slid down the hall to her room. “I, uh, usually sleep with the door locked, but the only way to the bathroom is through the bedroom, so I’ll leave it open if you need it.” She shrugged off her discomfort at the idea. “Fatal flaw of the apartment layout.”

Carisi thanked her and she half-ran to her room, her heart pounding again, and she threw herself onto her bed. How the fuck was she supposed to sleep now?

* * *

She woke to the sound of running water, cracking her eyes open to see sunlight streaming through her curtains. A quick check at the clock on her nightstand told her it was nine in the morning—so much for sleeping in. She groaned, rolling over and throwing an arm across her eyes.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Astrid bolted upright in bed, her right arm already outstretched toward the nightstand drawer for her gun—

Carisi stood in her bathroom doorway, looking sheepish, dressed only in loose sweatpants and holding a towel. Astrid let her arm drop away from the nightstand. Right, Carisi was here, and her bathroom was attached to her room; the sound of water was her shower. He did say he usually bathed in the mornings.

“N-No, not your fault,” she said, looking away. “I’ll give you some privacy.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Did you...eat breakfast yet?”

“I, uh, didn’t know where anything was and I didn’t just wanna go poking around.”

She thought about the gun in her nightstand—she had a permit around here somewhere, but that didn’t mean she wanted to field the questions that would surely come up. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Normally, she’d forgo breakfast entirely—it was rare she had the opportunity to make anything for herself most mornings, and she still got flashbacks of freshman year when all she lived on was ramen and Bisquick pancakes.

“Cereal it is,” she murmured.

When Sonny came out from the bathroom, in a black suit with his tie hung undone around his neck, Astrid was halfway through a bowl of cornflakes. The kitchen table had a small spread—the cereal box was next to an empty bowl, alongside a jug of milk, a glass of orange juice, and a bowl she’d set in the center of the table that had the last of her fresh fruit.

Astrid gestured at the table as he sat down opposite her. “Continental breakfast,” she said. “We know you have a lot of choices so we’d like to thank you for staying at Hotel Moss.”

He chuckled, pouring cereal into the bowl and then reaching for the milk. Wordlessly, Astrid handed him the sugar dish, a little bird with its tail carved to be a spoon. A present from Cora when she’d gotten her first place. Too cutesy for her usually, but a present was a present. The coffee was still brewing, the maker hissing and gurgling as she asked it to make more than a single cup.

“What’s this for?” Sonny asked, looking confused.

Astrid paused in her crunching and gestured at her own cereal bowl, her mouth full.

“You put sugar on your cornflakes?”

“You...don’t?” Astrid frowned. “They don’t taste like anything without the sugar.”

“Yes, they do, they taste like cornflakes.” Sonny was grinning. “Who told you it was normal to put sugar on cornflakes?”

The coffee maker beeped. Astrid stood, reaching up for two coffee mugs. “My grandpa. It’s what he’d make me for breakfast if I was staying with him. My parents were away on business a lot when I was growing up.”

“Was he the one married to Grandma Moss? Homemade carbonara but sugar on cereal?”

“Other side of the family.” Astrid poured the coffee and reached into the fridge for her creamer. “I never met Grandma Moss.”

She gave him one of the mugs, a rough-hewn pottery piece she’d bought down in Soho, and kept her favorite for herself—a novelty item she’d gotten in one of those subscription boxes, modeled to look like a Japanese lucky cat.

“I don’t know how you take your coffee,” she said. “I’ve got milk and I’ve got creamer.”

“Snickerdoodle coffee creamer?” he read off the bottle. “Didn’t even know there was such a thing.”

“I usually get the Heath bar flavor, but they were out.” She blew gently on her coffee. “How about next time we go to your place and I can make fun of all of your habits?” She took a sip. “I bet you’ve got a mismatched plate or two just ready to be mocked. Or some weird ice cream flavor preference you haven’t told anyone about. I bet a guy like you likes pistachio.”

Sonny laughed again, and her heart was doing that awful fluttering thing again. She curled her hands around her coffee, leaning against the counter, but it wasn’t just her hands that felt warm. Sonny’s ringtone blared, killing the pleasant vibe—he had it next to him on the table and she could see the name on the caller ID before he picked it up. Amanda.

“Hey,” he said. Astrid sipped her coffee again, unsure if she should leave the room to give him privacy. “Yeah, all quiet. Building seems secure enough, and he didn’t show up at the bar.” He paused while she said something on the other end. “I told you, I think the threat is viable.”

She cleared away the plates; Sonny glanced at her, frowning.

“Yeah, no, Rollins, I get that—”

Astrid brought her coffee with her to the couch, along with an apple, and settled with her legs tucked beneath her. She set the mug on the coffee table and grabbed her well-worn copy of _The Shining_ and opened it to her bookmark—a ticket stub from when she’d seen _Anastasia_ on Broadway. Cora had taken her to see it for her birthday.

“I’m sorry, but why can’t Fin go with you?”

Astrid took a large bite of the apple, the crunch drowning out the conversation. She let herself get wrapped in the story—she loved the human aspect of the novel, constantly holding it as something to aspire to. It’d been ages since she had finished a novel of her own at any rate. She got so wrapped up in the story that when Sonny put his hand on her shoulder, she jumped.

“Again?” he asked, smiling.

“I was serious about that bell,” she grumbled, setting her book down. She took another bite of her apple. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, that was just my partner.” He moved to sit beside her on the couch; she shuffled over until she was pressed against the arm of it.

“The blonde?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Detective Rollins?”

“Yep.”

“Do you...have to go in?”

“Nah, I told you, my lieutenant gave permission.” He reached for the remote on the table. “You got cable on this thing?”

“On a bartender’s wage? Hell no.” She gestured at the Netflix button near the top of the remote. “Streaming services all the way. And if you change the input here, you can watch Disney plus.” She crunched once more into the apple; the juice ran sticky down her chin. “Not to mention my extensive DVD and Blu-ray collection, under the TV.” She motioned to the media stand.

He stood and walked over, crouching to open the media stand. “A lot of steelbook cases. How many are here?”

“Two or three dozen. All classics.”

“ _Deadpool_?”

“Classic.”

“ _Anastasia_?”

“Definitely a classic.”

“ _Blade Runner 2049_?”

“Oh, have you not heard?” She flashed him a grin and wiped her mouth.

“Let me guess, classic?” Sonny gave her another crooked smile. She was starting to get used to them. “Wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen it.”

“Well, you’ve seen the original at least,” she said, shrugging. She set the apple core down on the coffee table.

“Can’t say I have.”

Her head snapped to him. “Excuse me?”

“I haven’t seen it.”

“I reject your protection if you haven’t even seen the original _Blade Runner._ Harrison Ford? Rutger Hauer?" She raised her eyebrows. “One of the best sci-fi movies of all time?”

Sonny shrugged. “I’ve seen _Total Recall,_ does that count for anything?”

“That’s basic bitch shit,” she deadpanned. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you have to do? Your partner isn’t expecting you?”

“Not today. And I’d just have to drag you along with me. I wasn’t kidding about keeping you safe.”

“Good, because you’ve got a movie marathon coming your way.” _How many days until you decide I’m perfectly safe?_ He said it himself, the guy hadn’t shown up at the bar and last night had been quiet. Maybe she was in no danger at all.

* * *

They finished both movies by lunch time.

Astrid’s foot was falling asleep halfway through the sequel. Sonny had gotten comfortable, one arm slung along the back of the couch, never even tying his tie—it lay draped across the arm of the couch. When the credits rolled, Astrid stretched and said, “Go on, you can say. Good right?”

“Pretty good,” he admitted. “Still a little lost on a few things though.”

“That just means you gotta watch it again.” Astrid laughed and stood up.

“Again?”

“I mean, if you have specific questions I can try to answer on the way.”

“On the way where?”

Astrid ducked behind her bedroom door, slipping off her shorts and putting on a ripped pair of jeans instead.

“There’s a deli a few blocks away, best sandwiches in the whole city. They have this spread—Mr. Sitsky won’t tell me what’s in it but they put it on everything and it’s damn good. Almost like a mustard and compound butter had a kid.”

She came out from her room, grabbing a jacket from the rack in the hall.

“I assume you’re going to insist on coming with. Unless I’m allowed to go on a walk by myself?”

“Wouldn’t be much protection if I let you do that,” Sonny said, and he got up in time to get his shoes on as she slid on a pair of Keds.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
